The French Formula (LSD, #3)

14. Everybody Needs Somebody

Everybody Needs Somebody

"Who do you love, Bugs?"

Doc is still impressed by the speech of the young Polish woman.

"I love my parents and my grandparents. I love my friends. I love people who love other people."

"Isn't there one special woman, or a man perhaps, who's waiting for you to hear how your day was?"

"No, there's no special woman. Sometimes I feel a little sad inside for not having a life that can be shared with somebody to love, but that's the price of being a spy. You and me, we're travelling every day, saving the world or saving patients's lives. In our suitcases, there's no space for someone special. Or am I mistaken? Is there a Mrs Doc waiting for you somewhere?"

Doc knows what I'm talking about: "They say that everybody needs somebody, someone to love, a sugar to kiss and a sweetheart to miss, but men like you and me, we have to sacrifice other pleasures to do what we have to do. Perhaps in a next life."

"That Polish girl was quite clear about it: she reminded her Minister that love is more important than Economy. We don't live to work. We work to live."

Long before we reach room 472, we hear the hammers of the demolishers who started making room for rebuilding and renovation. At 21:00? In a broom closet?

I open the door and see Gregor, in pain, in need, insane, indeed. When Doc's injection stopped working, Gregor woke up with one desire: Angel Dust. Being tied to a chair inside a broom closet didn't bother him at all. The drug convinced him of the urgency to fight his way out, and Gregor answered with everything he had. So now he had a headache, he had bleeding wounds on his face, shoulders and wrists, and he had the proof that the door of the broom closet was a lot stronger than his addiction. I feel sorry for all the witches of Brest: Gregor's rage broke every broom in the closet, so if they have plans to go out tonight, they'll have to find alternative transport.

I push Doc and Gregor inside Doc's office, close the door behind us, and start cleaning and bandaging Gregor's wounds: "What do we do now, Doc? We can't leave him like this. We have to go in an hour."

Doc asks me to remove the duct tape from Gregor's mouth, to hear if he has something to say, but he only shouts: "I WANT MY ANGEL!" until I put the tape back. There's nothing sensible coming out of him.

"Perhaps we should give him what he wants. Do you still have the Angel Dust he gave you?", I suggest.

Doc shakes his head: "It's not a matter of what to give him. It's a moral dilemma we should solve here. As a doctor, I swore an oath to cure my patients and save their lives. We have three options. The first is that we do nothing. As you can see, it will result in Gregor hurting himself. I don't consider that as an option, more as the disease I have to cure. The second option is to give him the drugs he wants..."

Gregor is listening, even calms down a bit after hearing Doc's words. He nods ferociously. He wants his Angel.

Doc goes on: "The third option is to give him Prepoleptyl. He will be on speaking terms, without pain and without the desire to take Angel Dust. He'll be perfectly alright. We also know the problems of option three. Is Prepoleptyl a solution, or does it make everything worse? By experience, I know that option two makes the problem worse. Before Gregor started taking Angel Dust, he didn't need our help. When options one and two fail, it's tempting to pick option three, but there's a risk: we still don't know if Prepoleptyl shuts off his emotions temporally or permanently. All we know is that Prepoleptyl will give us a reasonable Gregor, someone we can talk with."

I'm not sure what Doc tries to say: "And the moral dilemma is?"

"The moral dilemma is: should the doctor cure the patient against his will, or should the doctor treat the patient according to his will? This is not something to think lightly about. The seventh floor of this hospital is full of patients who have no reasonable expectations of being cured. The doctors there follow the wish of the patients and medicate morphine, against their oath to do everything they can to save the lives of those patients."